


12 Hours Truce

by Henna_Sully



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Loki
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Hester is pathetic, Loki is a bit nasty, Marvel Loki face claim, Mildly Dubious Consent, NSFW, Not as nice as him though, Sex, Smut, Witches, fan fic, inspired by Marvel Loki, obviously, related to my tumblr rp story, she should be stronger than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henna_Sully/pseuds/Henna_Sully
Summary: Lady Hester, a Salem witch, has been trying to better Loki, the god of mischief, for days. He has now proposed a truce for 12 hours in which they could calm down and discuss her grievance. He would rather seduce her though.
Kudos: 4





	12 Hours Truce

**Author's Note:**

> O/C Lady Hester is a witch from 17th c. Salem. I have written her backstory (and more, through rp) on her tumblr blog, the-lady-witchitery dot tumblr dot com. --But here it is in brief:
> 
> Whilst she and her children were being executed, she was rescued, but doesn't know who by. During the exectution she saw a green and gold mist- but whether this was her rescuer or the evil behind the villagers turning on her, she doesn't know. She spends centuries, hunting down whoever it was that killed her children and almost killed her, killing or cursing the villagers' descendants. Finally, all the clues point to the god of mischief himself. A first, she threatens him, sets out to kill him. They fight, but tiring of her, he proposes a truce. This is when the subject of this fic happened.

My encounter with Loki, which became -unexpectedly- intimate….

Loki had threatened me with his daggers, but it was me who had started it, I freely admit that, by approaching him with my dragon-bone sword in hand. I accused him of having had a hand in the murders of my children, some three hundred years before. he offerred no straight answers, but a battle of wits, of teases; we thought not just with blades but with invisibility glamours and illusions. Until finally he suggested a truce. Twelve hours, he said. During which we would eat and talk and try to find some answers. He would help research the past, he said, to find out what exactly had happened to my family. And if, he said, I am still not satisfied by morning, then we would pick up our weapons and fight a duel. I agreed, but it took a lot more reassurance before I was even almost sure I could trust him. I asked him if an Asgardian Prince would keep his word on his honour, and he said that yes, he would.

\- - - - - - - - - 

As to what I’ve written, here in this private journal I possibly shouldn’t record. Such things are enough to make the paper blush, or the ink to refuse to flow. Perhaps we are never meant to remember such details as these, but I don’t want to forget a single moment of this, this time I put my desires above my oath to avenge my family- because at this stage, I still did not know if Loki were guilty or not. And yet. For one time, the first in centuries, I cared about something else, something other than vengeance. For once in 300 years I let something else be more important. For once I was unafraid to be in the present. And this is when I should have been most afraid, with Loki, for with him, you cannot be in the moment, you need to be several moments ahead of him.

\- - - - - - - - - 

As we sat and talked, he sipped a drink he had brought back from Sakaar. Too strong for me, he had said, so I drank red wine. We talked about magic. About who my tutor had been. Whatever I told him he seemed able to pick holes in. This didn’t have the usual effect, of alienating the critic, but instead made him look so much overflowing with knowledge, with quiet academic authority, and with an awe-inspiring calmness. It’s true what they say; take a man who is tall, handsome, intelligent, witty, mysterious, and that is a very attractive man. But add in the hint of danger, and that stops being attractive and becomes seductive. Was this seduction? I didn’t plan for it, and even at the very moment, I knew I should want it to stop. But I didn’t. And didn’t want to want to. I think he was using all his best honed seduction techniques on me, not knowing how much of it was completely wasted on me- because I was already, against my better self’s advice, waiting for his touch.

\- - - - - - - - -

Our kisses had begun as gasping, teasing nibbles. Then just open mouths hovering above each other’s lips; so much passion preventing us from touching, barely breathing, frozen in a mutual yearning to taste. 

I fell more and more into him, I felt as though my consciousness were pouring into his. Somehow, he was in my mind, and yet, I seemed to be in his. I was losing myself.

I know he can read minds, and I can too, but only a little, and only if I can look into the other person’s eyes. I’d never been this close to his face before, and when I looked into his eyes, they were like no others I have seen, even in dreams. I could say they were blue,or sparkling, or like a summer’s sky, but none of these could come close to what they were. So beautiful, they might convert demons to sainthood. Eyes shouldn’t be like that. As I focused, I gradually saw into his mind, and though there was love, he must mentally segregate everything into little boxes and hide it all away; I couldn’t see his past, his pain, his hurt or his anger, or all the murders he’d committed, all the violence. All I sensed was a space. An empty space, gradually filling with loving acceptance, and I knew that it was I who was filling it, and I felt both powerful and humbled at the same time.

I didn’t even notice when he first pushed me down onto the bed. His arms were around me, around my back. He was kissing my neck, then suddenly his weight was on me. Why didn’t I notice that move? Everything was swimming around me. Time, suspended, and yet all happening quickly. My head was a mess.

As he rolled on to me my body stiffened; all my muscles stiffened. 

“Relax,” he said, gently.

“I can’t,” I said, “I’m trying to, I want to, I’m not in control of this.” My body is almost in cramp, in a spasm. Am I excited or afraid? 

“Don’t worry, whichever it is,” he smiled, mischievously. He knelt up between my knees, and rubbed his hands, smoothly, across my stomach and over my chest. Gradually the tension left me. Then he lay down on me again, with his hands tucked under my shoulder blades.

I felt my nerves rise again as I knew that the time was coming to go further. He was poised over me, his crotch excruciatingly close to mine but not yet touching. The kisses he served me soon weren’t enough and I begged him.

He looked at me and gently rubbed himself against me.

He smirked “I am a god, and this will be different.“

He paused, looking up at me from under his brow, a trace of a devilish smile at the corner of his mouth. Suddenly, for the first time, I definitely felt afraid. The fear sent a shiver up my spine that prodded my brain and said “What the fuck am I doing?” I felt the colour drain from my face. I was in the most vulnerable position a woman could be in. My heart was pounding. What did he mean? An Asgardian has the same physical… layout as we do, doesn’t he? And then I realised what he meant. I glanced down and saw the full size of him for the first time Oh my god, I thought, he will never, never be able to do this with me, except to split me apart, rip into me with absolute torture. And at that moment I thought that that’s what would really happen. But suddenly, strangely, I didn’t care.

He chuckled at my shock.

“It’s ok,” I quietly answered, a slight stutter, “I trust you.”

So he pushed against me more forcefully, and kept his eyes on mine. I gasped and he grinned. “It’s OK,” he said, firmly, “I’ll be gentle and er… gradual.”

Just a little way, and I clenched my teeth. A little more, and then I knew the width of him. And then another gentle, tiny, controlled push and then slightly retreating. And another. “Are you all right?” He whispered. I just smiled at him, unquestioning. Anticipating pain that never came, my fingers poised to grip the sheets at any moment. He must have known my fear as there was that confident smirk again. A little more. The width of him flooded all my senses. I opened my thighs as wide as I could but never far enough, as still, he slid into me. After each retreat he pushed back a little further, and the control began to show on his face, clenching his jaw. Surely no more? I thought, no deeper, please, and he smiled- obviously he has read my mind. He whispered, “Just a little further, my little witch.” And then he pushed and I had all of him, as he fell against my mouth, swallowing my gasp.

True to his word, and in contrast to the devilish look on his face, he was gentle, so gentle -and he needed to be. I arched my back as he pulled me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He lifted me up to his, and I saw the muscles in his arms and chest bulge. So strong. I knew he would be able to carry me off anywhere without the slightest strain, or loss of a single breath. He knew I’d seen that strength and his jaw rose, and he looked down his nose at me as though I were the weakest nothing he had ever had in his bed.

I lay flat against the covers and he knelt between my legs, lifting me and holding me against him so our join was not interrupted. His eyes rolled back as he fought to hold onto the reins of his desire. He had promised to be gentle and he was fighting to be true to that promise. For now.

I knew he did this for my sake, but as my need coiled tighter in my belly I begged him to go faster; all in vain- he face glowed at my begging, enjoying my desperation. I Iost all control, leaving it all in his hands. Completely, useless. Completely in his power as the warm wave came, dragging its tightening spasms behind it.

“That’s your first,” he spoke, blankly, into my ear, “By the time I’ve finished with you tonight, Little Witch, you won’t remember how many.” Have your eyes ever tangibly anticipated pain before anything else in your body? Mine did at that moment, wide open, staring at him, not quite back in focus, as he said this almost as a threat.

“Oh my god!” I whispered as he started on me again,

He laughed at me. “Well… what do I call you?” I asked quietly, embarrassed.

“Well… my name IS Loki, so….”

For hours, I would scream that name. For hours, he whispered mine, sometimes in a mocking tone. I began to avoid his eyes sometimes, not wanting to see the fiendish smirk that I thought I could place in his voice. 

We rolled together. We rolled off the bed. We sat against the bed. We sat on the bed. I sat against him and he held me, he walked across the room laughing, still holding me there; pinning me to the wall. At times both of us laughing. We slipped down onto the floor and he turned me over to push me from behind. Rough, without hint; faster and harder than ever. I slid forward, trying to hold myself steady but unable to grip anything. His hands were on my hips, lifting me, thrusting me against himself, panting and laughing. It was finally too much; I screamed. He stopped. I thought he would release me but instead he leant forward and hissed towards my ear, “Take it.”

He pulled me back onto the bed -I was relieved to have the soft mattress against my back again. The room was soon spinning round me once more, I could barely think, and above me he was still climbing, panting, sighing. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him as close as possible, clenching my thighs and holding him still, using my crossed ankles as a lock. Unable to push or control any rhythm he snarled at me, his eyes glaring and tinged with auburn, but I made him have no doubt who was in charge this time. “Your hips will only move when I make mine move,” I told him, slowly, stressing every word and narrowing my eyes at him, “your pushing against me doesn’t make a difference now. And you cannot exit me, you will stay inside, till I will otherwise. We will move together only when I will so.” and I didn’t rise and fall very often, glaring at him, holding him still, suspended, fighting against his stubborn strength, watching him snarl and thrash his arms till he screamed into my face, attempting to reach down to my mouth with his teeth sharply exposed, only to be prevented by my hands and nails, pushing him away and scratching his cheeks whilst I glared up at him. “STOP IT!” I said, forcefully. “You. Do. Not. Have. Control.”

He hadn’t been as close as I had thought and so this torturous frustration for him lasted longer than I had thought it would, but I would not yield. I submitted only once I felt him grow before he came, and he then roared like an animal in heat. I have heard wolves howl in pain with a sound like that. He fell and rolled onto his side. 

I lay exhausted, and my mind began to go over the strange senses I’d experienced earlier. Soon he leant over me and looked into my face, quizzically, and smiled with enormous, excited eyes and cupped my face into his hand, turning me to look at him,“Ah ha” he said, “You’ve felt the mind-join, haven’t you?”

“What happened to me?” -I was confused about what I had seen in my mind’s eye the last time I came, and just wanted him to tell me, -stop smiling, tell me!

“Joined.” He whispered. “You have a Midgardian book that says ‘the two become one body’ but OURS says ‘one body, one mind, one spirit’. So here we are; one body? Yes. One mind? Yes. Come again, little Hester,“ he kissed my forehead gently and brushed my dampened hair from my face, “and it will be our spirits as well.”

What on earth does that mean?

Soon, it happened for me again. 

This time, I thought my body was going to fall away in shards. And then I realised- our spirits had indeed joined. I could feel every strand of us. Every whispering, smiling, sighing, praying thing that makes up a human soul, dancing with all that and more, of a god’s. Bliss; our beings swimming through a wash of the purest of pure joys. We were not together any more. Together is a word used for two. There was no together left, only one.

With spirits one, mind one, body one. Inside and outside of air itself. No experience in the world like this. At least, not the world of Midgard.

Our bodies lay beneath us. Astral projection was no stranger to me, but I was scared. I looked down and there were our bodies; twisting, joined, moving, but I was above them with him. Where were we? I wondered. And I felt him smile. It was like a tickle in my soul. “One in spirit, Hester” I FELT him whisper to me “Look-” I looked again below, “Our minds, our bodies are lifting us here.”

When I looked back I realised that this must have lasted for hours, but at the time, there was no time. Just one moment, one joy, one state, where we lingered, wrapped in and around each other’s most intimate source of being.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

When the morning came, I woke up on his chest, my arm around him, his arms around me. I looked down. We were both naked, one sheet twisted between us. I tried to figure out how on earth that happens. it reminded me of those statues I’d grown up with, of Christ on the cross; with that little bit of material wrapped round him just conveniently covering a certain part. It would have no knots, no lumps or bumps to give any hint of how it held there. And then there was this twisted sheet around us.

“Strange that you should think of that.”

“Have you been awake all the time, listening to my thoughts?” I asked, feigning shock in my voice, and with raised eyebrows.

“Well of all the things to think!” He replied.

“Yess… I was just wondering that myself.”

“I believe we may have about half an hour before the twelve hour truce is up.” He grinned, mischievously. And I reached up my hands into that gloriously soft, shiny, ebony black hair, and pulled him down for another kiss, his arms soon clinging around my waist again and pulling me close.

A last half hour of anything is never enough.

“Must we be enemies, again now?”

“That was the agreement, Hester,” he said, blankly.

I sniffed a little, and bit back a few tears? No, not quite. Biting back shock, I think, that the night had ever ended, and so abruptly.

“My Lord, ” I said, in a very, very low voice, “ I can’t be your enemy now.”

“What did you think, that you would become my lover?” he mocked, eyes twinkling, “My queen? And,” he chuckled, looking closely into my eyes “I think the polite attention to my title is nothing but endorphins, Little Witch. Don’t worry. You’ll get over it. And besides, I have yet to tell you about the day your family died.”

I had forgotten about it. It had occupied my thoughts for centuries; an obsession that had scarcely let my brain plan, plot or think anything else. 

“Get up,” he said, his seider washing over him with a blur, making him clean and clothed as he walked to the door, already his back to me. “There’s a shower in there,” a casual wave of a hand towards a door in the corner of the room. “I’ll make some coffee. Meet me in the dining room in 30 minutes. We can talk there.”

And he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Well people, that was my first attempt at writing smut. I hope you couldn't tell. Please leave some feedback. Be kind! As for Hester, I might publish her story here as a series.


End file.
